“Bye.” He kept himself from laughing. No wonder she’d won an Oscar. Her acting was beyond believable. He slipped into his SUV and only then did he allow himself a slight smile. Randi understood how badly he wanted to keep his trips to Bloomington a secret. And she’d been a friend to him, giving the press a reason to think she was up to no good.
He started his engine and reached the driveway just before her. His cell phone rang before he could make his left turn back onto Pacific Coast Highway. “Hello?”
“How was that?”
“Every one of them bought it.” He chuckled. “You’re good, Randi. If I didn’t know better, I’d follow you myself. Just to see what was going on.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She laughed. “Let’s give ’em a run for their money. And, Dayne . . .”
“Yes?” He checked the traffic and pulled out.
“Thanks for being my friend.”
“Thanks for being mine. I think I have a shot at getting to the airport without leading a parade.”
“Well, you better focus on the road. We’ve got lots of company for now.”
They ended their call. Randi stayed behind Dayne, and by the time they hit their cruising speed, twelve paparazzi cars were clustered behind them. There was no point trying to lose them yet. His Escalade had tinted windows, but they knew it belonged to him, same as they knew the red BMW convertible belonged to Randi. But if Randi’s ploy worked, sometime before the stretch of homes on Malibu Beach, she’d turn and the paparazzi would follow.
Dayne checked his rearview mirror again. One of these days the photographers were going to cause a wreck, and then what? Would the craziness finally come to an end, or would it only make them more anxious, rabidly excited about being first at the scene?
Randi took the lead, grinning in Dayne’s direction as she passed him.
Eleven paparazzi cars sped by him and tried to squeeze in on either side of Randi. Dayne understood what they were doing. Randi was blonde and pretty, and with her BMW top down and her designer sunglasses, a shot of her driving along PCH was bound to bring good money.
Still, the move was dangerous, and he watched her react to the nearness of them. At first she jerked her car to the right and then to the left. He could see her grab the wheel with both hands, trying to maintain control.
Alarm coursed through Dayne’s body. If she swerves . . . help her, God. Please!
He sped up, trying to intimidate them, but still they hounded her. And now another photographer zipped around him and into the lane of oncoming traffic. Only a sports car was coming straight for the guy. The photographer snuck back into traffic at the last second but not before the sports car swerved hard to his right.
At the same time, a delivery truck in that lane swerved out of the way, lost control, and shot across both lanes and straight for . . .
Dayne had no time to analyze the situation, no time to imagine the ramifications of the scene playing out in slow motion before his eyes. No time to brake or turn the wheel. The truck flew at him like a runaway train, and in an instant he realized that this was how it happened. Every day in every city in the country someone stumbled into a moment like this, and that was all there was. Living life one minute and carried off in a body bag the next.
A hundred questions screamed at him. What about the wedding? What about the plans he had for later today and tomorrow and Thanksgiving? He hadn’t had time to talk to Ross about Jesus, no perfect time to talk to Luke and Erin, the brother and sister he’d been meaning to call since the revelation that he was related to them. No time to call Katy and tell her good-bye.
He slammed on his brakes, but the steering wheel locked and there was nowhere for him to go. In the final split second before the truck slammed into the driver’s side of his Escalade, he had just enough time to grieve everything he was about to lose. His place in the Baxter family, his years in the house on the lake, his life with Katy. But only her face filled his heart and mind and soul as the truck slammed into his SUV, as glass exploded and the sound of screaming, twisting metal filled his ears.
Something sharp and burning tore through his body, his head, as everything was going black, and his final thought was the saddest of all. The face in his mind was one he might never see again this side of heaven.
The face of his forever love, Katy Hart.
Family Page 32